I watched, fascinated, as Dusty’s sensuous lips curled into a provocative smile. “You’ve seen a lot more of me, haven’t you?” His gaze swept over me as though assessing every detail. His smile broadened, making me feel far more attractive than I had mere moments before. “I’ve seen a lot more of you too. I don’t suppose we could go somewhere more…private, could we?”
“What? And leave everyone else to fend for themselves?”
Dusty seemed to have sobered up considerably in the past fifteen minutes, leading me to wonder if he’d really been quite as drunk as he’d appeared. “Caroline already went home—said something about her babysitter not wanting to be out very late—which leaves Jenny and Rachel to take care of Troy and Joe.” He glanced over his shoulder at the dance floor. “I don’t think they’d mind too much if we asked them nicely. I don’t give a shit what happens to Bull.”
“He, um, followed your little friend over to the bar.” I nodded in their direction. Apparently she’d transferred her attentions with no difficulty whatsoever and was now draped over Bull like a second skin. “By the way, did you enjoy having her hanging all over you?”
“Not really,” he replied. “She was pretty, but she’s not my Angel.” With a cunning grin, he added, “My Angel would never say sucking my balls was disgusting.”
“Never.” I agreed with him wholeheartedly, although it was something I’d never actually done prior to that evening. “There isn’t a single thing about you that’s disgusting, Dusty. Not one single, solitary thing.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “Hold that thought.”
I glanced up as our friends made their way back to the table, noting that they still weren’t paired off the way I thought they should be. Jenny was partnered with Joe, and Troy was escorting Rachel. It was all wrong; their heights didn’t even match up right. Rachel was actually a shade taller than Troy while Jenny hit Joe at about the same level that I had. I shook my head in disgust. These people were enough to drive any self-respecting matchmaker to drink. However, I refrained from comment, saying instead that Dusty was getting tired and I probably ought to take him home.
To my surprise, this didn’t seem to be a problem. “I’ll take the others home if they want to stay longer,” Jenny offered. “Or Rachel could do it. We drove separately.”
The knowing lift of Troy’s brow made it plain I hadn’t deceived him for a moment. He knew precisely why I wanted to leave. “Tired, huh? It’s not that late.”
“Sick and tired,” Dusty amended, never once taking his eyes from my face.
“Hmm…tired of waiting, maybe,” Troy suggested. “Myself, I think I’d like to stick around a while longer.” He glanced at Rachel. “Would you mind taking me home?”
I know how I would’ve replied to that question if I’d been in her place—especially since I’d already done it once. But Rachel? I wasn’t sure.
She beamed a radiant smile at him. “Not at all.”
Joe wasn’t even mentioned, which made me wonder whose house Rachel planned to take him to. I seemed to have missed something somewhere. However, one glance at Joe made it patently obvious he wasn’t ready to leave, either.
Still, I had one more cowboy to account for. “Think you could make sure Bull has a way home too?”
Dusty’s grin suggested he knew something the rest of us didn’t. “I don’t think you need to worry about Bull. That redheaded hooker will see that he gets home all right—although he’ll probably have to pay extra for the ride.”
“Hooker?” I squeaked in astonishment. “You mean she’s—”
Dusty nodded. “Sure seemed that way to me. I guess she thought I might be desperate enough to pay since I couldn’t dance—or she thought I was, I dunno…unattached, maybe?”
“Well, shit,” I exclaimed. “If that’s the case, I’m not leaving you alone again for a second.” Dusty was much too attractive for anyone to think he would have to pay for sex—broken leg or no. That girl was either incredibly stupid or she wasn’t much of a hooker—especially since ball-sucking was one of the least disgusting acts a prostitute might be called upon to perform. She couldn’t have known Dusty had won the cutest balls award in our contest, but still…
I giggled wickedly. “He’s going to end up paying after all.”
“Serves him right,” Dusty said. “Let’s go home, Angel.”
* * *
Dusty must have truly been tired because he fell asleep on the way to the ranch. Granted, it was a fairly long drive and the beer may have been partly responsible, but he had to be exhausted from dragging himself around all day with a cast on his leg. I had an idea he’d been conking out fairly early these days, kinda like I did when I was pregnant.
I’d seen him asleep before, but still felt the need to glance over at him from time to time, watching him as he slept. Mark Chesnutt’s cover of “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” was playing on the radio. I knew exactly what those lyrics meant now. I didn’t want to fall asleep—I wanted to watch him until the sun rose and he stirred, blinking the sleep from his eyes. I wanted to see him do whatever he did first thing in the morning—even if it was rubbing his dick or scratching his balls.
I’d never given Cody the chance to mess with his version of morning wood. I nearly always woke up first—reaching for him, massaging his back, pulling off his underwear, and going for his ass, his tiny sighs and groans telling me how pleased he was to be awakened in that manner. I would push him onto his back to stroke his cock, feeling it stiffen even more beneath my touch.
My God, how I missed that.
After we turned off the highway and onto the bumpy, pitted road that would take us home, I drove more slowly, trying not to wake him.
I wanted to take Dusty back to my room that night—my own bed, in my own house. I wanted to keep him there until morning and stay in bed late, making love with him in a slow, lazy, Sunday morning sort of way. I wanted to fix breakfast for him, watch him eat it, and then make love with him all over again. If he fell asleep, so much the better. I would keep watch over him, ensuring that no harm would ever come to him. Nothing bad could happen if I was there to prevent it. I was his guardian angel—he’d said so himself—and I couldn’t fail him, because if I did, I’d be failing myself.
The song ended and I turned off the radio, not wanting to hear anything else that might break the spell. The last time I’d driven down this road with a man was the day I’d picked up Troy. What a day that had been! He’d done so much for me, brightening my life and giving me back my soul. I owed him so much for that.
So very, very much…
I’d have never known what a great guy Joe was if not for Troy. He would’ve gone right on staring at the ground whenever I was near, rarely speaking and certainly not pleading with me for hugs and kisses. Dusty might never have declared himself if he hadn’t found me in the bunkhouse inhaling Troy’s scent. What if he’d seen me just a few seconds later, never realizing what I’d been doing? Would he have ever said a word to me? Would he be safer now because of it or would he be in even greater peril? I’d lost one man before—surely I couldn’t lose another, could I? Would God really do that to me, or was it my own fault? Was I some kind of bad luck charm, causing accidents to happen to the men I loved the most?
If so, then all three of them—Troy, Dusty, and Joe—were in danger, because I loved them all. Each in a different way, perhaps, but I would be devastated should anything bad happen to any of them. I would see it as my fault and never be able to give my heart to anyone again, knowing they might be at risk because of me. It made me want to take them back to my house so I could keep them out of harm’s way—away from rattlesnakes and wild horses and any other threat to their safety. No doubt they would laugh and accuse me of being silly and paranoid.
Except Joe. He’d been the one to see the pattern and bring it to my attention—even before the rattlesnake
incident. Knowing there might be a problem hadn’t helped prevent that occurrence. Perhaps I was to blame for not risking a confrontation with Bull and Rufus. I could discount my father and Calvin. Dad didn’t have the physical capability to wrestle with a snake, and Calvin was deathly afraid of them.
Perhaps if I were to let my suspicions be known, the accidents might cease. Suspicion was much less dangerous than outright accusation, but the trick would be to do it without making a bad situation worse.
The solution to that dilemma kept my mind occupied for the remainder of the drive. However, despite my best efforts, I was no closer to an answer.
Chapter 25
I made no pretense of dropping Dusty off at the bunkhouse. I parked my truck in the garage and woke him up. If we ran into my father on the way to my room, so much the better. I was getting tired of all the clandestine bullshit. I loved Dusty, and I saw no reason to hide that love anymore—at least, not from my father. Rufus might notice Dusty’s absence, but he wouldn’t necessarily know where to look for him—although he might have been able to make a pretty good guess. With Bull off somewhere with his expensive pussy, Rufus was the only one I needed to be concerned about. The way I saw it, regardless of who might be responsible for the accidents, Dusty was safer with me than alone in the bunkhouse. And he would’ve been alone because Rufus and Calvin slept on the other side of the mess hall—Rufus in the foreman’s private room and Calvin in the cook’s quarters, away from the other men.
If Dusty was surprised I’d brought him up to the main house, he kept quiet about it, busying himself instead with the task of getting out of the truck without breaking another leg. I flipped on the kitchen light and held the door open for him while he negotiated the two steps up from the garage.
Despite Troy’s insistence that it wasn’t all that late, it was nearly one thirty. Dad had apparently gone to bed. Even if we’d elected to go to the bunkhouse, we probably wouldn’t have been disturbed for at least two hours, perhaps even more if the guys didn’t come straight home after Cactus Bill’s closed.
But I wanted more than a few hours. I wanted all night and into the next morning with Dusty—and the next thirty or forty years after that. I might even get it, seeing as how he’d asked me to marry him. I hadn’t given him an answer yet, but when I did, it would be a resounding yes. That is, if he remembered asking me. I would have to check on that to be sure.
As he paused in the doorway, it occurred to me that Dusty had never even been in the kitchen before. He’d only been in the office, which was off to the right of the front hallway. Since the back door was inside the garage and not visible from the bunkhouse, Troy had always come in that way whenever he’d visited me. Dusty never had, which made this moment seem almost as significant as if he were carrying me across the threshold on our wedding day.
The kitchen was the heart of any house, and family members entered through that door. Thankfully, Dusty seemed no more out of place there than Dad, Cody, or the boys would have been. He already belonged. For him to head straight to the refrigerator for a snack would have been perfectly natural.
And that’s exactly what he did.
“Sorry, Angel,” he said. “But I’m starving. I don’t suppose you have any more of that chili, do you?”
Here was my lover, the man I’d been dying to get my hands on all evening, asking to be fed before I ripped his jeans off and had my wicked way with him. It might have been perfectly natural, not to mention endearing, but it was funny as all get-out at the time.
“Sure do,” I replied with a giggle. “Dad doesn’t know how to make a small batch. There’s always enough for an army—although it never seemed like too much once Cody and the boys got into it. It’s there in that big green bowl.”
I realized then just how little I knew about Dusty’s likes and dislikes. Sure, he liked chili—I’d never known anyone to turn their nose up at my father’s version—but would he eat it cold or would he warm it up? Would he drink beer with it, or would he want water or even milk? I had no idea what to expect. I hadn’t lived with anyone completely new since the birth of my second child, and while figuring out what a new baby will eat is always a learning experience, milk and cereal are generally a good place to start. I didn’t have a clue what Dusty liked. Granted, I was the one who brought home the groceries and occasionally helped Calvin with the cooking, but his specific preferences were a mystery.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
Obviously, I’d been staring. I shook my head in an effort to reset my brain and clear my thoughts. “No reason. Just wondering how you want it.”
“In a bowl, hot, with grated cheese on top, and a glass of milk.” His tone and expression implied that as far as he was concerned there was no other way. He might as well have added the “Well, duh.”
“Sorry.” I flapped a hand. “Just a question. You’ll have to fill me in on the stuff you like.”
“I’m not hard to please. I mean, if it was a bowl of chili in my refrigerator, I’d probably stick a spoon in it and eat it cold.” He grinned. “Seems a bit presumptuous at the moment, though.”
“I see your point.” I took the bowl from him and set it on the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll fix it for you.”
Turning a chair sideways, he sat down, stretching his legs out in the middle of the floor. I wondered if this was another quirk of his until I realized it was simply a matter of maneuverability. With his leg in a cast, he would have a hard time getting up if he tucked his legs under the table.
My hands were shaking as I put some chili in a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, and even more so when I poured a glass of milk. Granted, bringing a new man into my home was worth a few butterflies, and the prospect of making love with him might’ve had something to do with it, but I shouldn’t have been so nervous. After all, Troy had visited me several times, and I hadn’t been anywhere near this rattled. I was doing my best to seem nonchalant, but my awkward movements must have given me away.
“Angel,” Dusty said. “Are you having second thoughts about all this?”
So he’d noticed. Imagine that. “What do you mean?” I was stalling, of course. I knew precisely what he meant. I wasn’t fooling anyone, not even myself.
I set the glass of milk on the table beside him. “I don’t know… It seems strange having you here.”
“You aren’t gonna give me that you’re-just-a-hired-hand-and-I’m-the-rancher’s-daughter spiel, are you?” His tone made it clear just how disappointed he would’ve been with me if that were the case—although no more disappointed than I would’ve been with myself.
“That isn’t it at all,” I replied. “But there’s something unsettling about all this. I feel like I’m”—I broke off as it dawned on me what the problem was—“replacing Cody.”
Without any warning, exhaustion suddenly overcame me, and I leaned back against the counter staring dumbly at him, completely ignoring the microwave when it dinged. Troy was different—he’d been a fling, a temporary affair that was bound to end sooner or later. But I intended to marry Dusty—to share my life and the running of the ranch with him. Future decisions would be made based on how well we could discuss important matters—rationally, with clear heads and open minds.
I’d grown into the idea with Cody, but this was different. Dusty was an adult, not some kid right out of high school whom Dad had taken under his wing to educate him on how things were done on the Circle Bar K. I had no idea what his own thoughts were on the subject. My love for him was reason enough to bring him into my house, but once we were married, this would be his house, his ranch, his life, just as much as it was mine. No, the problem wasn’t the hired hand versus the rancher’s daughter thing. My concerns would have applied to anyone I married.
I was beginning to understand why Dad thought Rufus, with all of his knowledge and experience as foreman, would be such a good choice. Dusty had
worked for us for several years, but I had no idea what his opinions were. Would he leave the running of the ranch to me, or would he take a more active role? Would he defer to me in most matters, or would he attempt to usurp my position, relegating me to the role of a mere housewife—which was something I’d never truly been, not even when Cody was alive. I did my housewifely chores, of course, but Cody had always understood that while he would share ownership with me eventually, the ranch belonged first and foremost to my father and subsequently to my side of the family. I hadn’t had the opportunity or the inclination to discuss this with Dusty as yet. It hadn’t seemed important until he sat there in my kitchen, waiting for me to make one of the more important decisions of my life.
Replacing Cody. This was different from starting out in life as a young couple, learning as you go along. This was more like a big company suddenly losing its CEO and having to choose a new one—one that the board of directors hoped wouldn’t run the company into the ground, or embezzle from the pension plan, or fire all the workers and hire his own relatives. I sincerely doubted that Dusty would do any of those things, but while he might be a fabulous partner for me, was he the best choice for the ranch?
I refrained from saying anything further for fear of offending him. Instead, I took the chili from the microwave and fixed it the way he’d asked me to.
I could almost feel his speculative gaze on me. Had I already offended him? He didn’t appear to be angry—puzzled perhaps, but not angry. He couldn’t possibly have read all the thoughts racing through my head, couldn’t have known even half of what I was thinking, but he somehow managed, quite perceptively, to key on the most important issue.
“You’re thinking the replacement won’t measure up to the original. Have I got that right?”
I summoned up a smile. “In some ways, you surpass him entirely. But in other ways… I simply don’t know.”
“I’ll do my best, Angel,” he said gently. “And I’ll love you. I can’t promise you any more than that. I’m not perfect and I’m sure Cody wasn’t either, although you may think that now. When he was alive, you would’ve been more likely to admit to his faults, just like anyone else, but now…well, he’s gone and…” He finished his sentence with a shrug.
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